What Daylight Brings
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Kink Meme prompt! Steve and Phil come across a mountain shack post-mission and agree to spend the night there. And then something happens during the night, something which Phil is sure was just a dream. Thing it, it wasn't. Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, or any other Marvel thingummies, nor am I making money from this.


"What Daylight Brings"

"I can't wait to tell Tony all about this," Steve said as he and Phil stumbled down the mountainside to a small shack. "His tech didn't show this place, and SHIELD's did."

"That's because Stark tracks electronics," Phil said, grabbing Steve's arm when he slid on a patch of wet grass. "Sorry."

"You okay?"

"Got my footing now," he replied, red from the exertion of the past three hours. Quinjets had dropped off agents in a number of locations, and since Steve had been hanging out on base at the time, he volunteered to join in. The combat gear he wore was just as flattering at the Captain America uniform, and it made him look… dangerous.

(The red on Phil's cheeks wasn't just from running around hillsides. He was man enough to admit that.)

"If there's no power, do you think that means no one's here?"

"I hope so," Phil said. "As long as this isn't a trap."

"SHIELD said it was safe," Steve said, brows furrowing just a tiny bit. Phil knocked at the door. There was no reply, and he knocked again. He drew his gun and held it at the ready. Steve reached past and opened the door, and then brushed past Phil.

"Captain," Phil said, exasperated.

"All clear, sir," Steve said, popping his head out around the door. "The stove's from the Middle Ages, and I haven't checked out the bathroom yet because there isn't one. Either there used to be an outhouse, or…"

Phil cleared his throat, and then holstered his weapon. "Or it could be through there." He nodded towards a doorway, partially hidden in the dark. Steve squinted at it, then shrugged.

"I assumed that was a second bedroom," he said. "There's just the one bed over in the corner there, and… oh."

Phil checked out the stove, and ascertained that, no, there was no wood. That was all right. The food they had didn't require any cooking. Admittedly, they'd used their flask to take out one of their targets, soon picked up by SHIELD. But there was a trough outside, and there'd been rain recently, so it was at least half full.

"You were right," Steve said. Phil whirled around, and noticed that the blond was blushing. "That's the bathroom. No, uh… no second bed."

They briefly argued about who was going to take the floor, until Phil made the ridiculous suggestion that they sleep on the ground, since they were both so insistent on it. This caused them to burst into laughter, then agree to share. The bed was roomy enough for two. The bad guys were gone, the shack was sturdy, and Phil was sure he wasn't going to glom onto Steve during the night.

Pretty sure.

Well, if it got cold, he could use that as an excuse.

* * *

They had opted against outer clothes, because Phil refused to let his jacket, trousers, and shirt wrinkle. Steve agreed that combat clothes weren't comfortable to lie in. This meant that, with some little movement during the night, the sheets were halfway down to their waists. Steve woke to the rays of the sun highlighting Phil's face and body, turned towards him. He reached out a hand, retracting it before it could make contact.

Something – maybe even that aborted movement – caused Phil to wake. He blinked rapidly, gaze eventually settling on Steve. It was too tempting. He leaned over and kissed Phil, heart hammering like a hummingbird in his chest.

It took next to no work to get Phil on his back, kissing back with soft moans. Steve slowly stripped them both of their underclothes, thanking SHIELD's radar and the late afternoon mission which had led them here. He followed the sunbeam up Phil's body, and then traced the line of his neck with gentle kisses. He marvelled at Phil's breathlessness, knowing that he was the case. He, Steve Rogers, was the one who made Agent Phil Coulson lose his cool. Not even Captain America, not anymore. It was all. Steve. Rogers.

As he looked into Phil's eyes, Steve's heart stuttered where it was currently located in his throat. It was so affectionate, and made him feel secure, like an agent being rescued by their dashing handler. He lowered his eyes, overwhelmed, only looking up again when Phil cupped his chin, and pulled him into another kiss. Steve moaned softly, and touched Phil's erection. The agent gasped, and bucked upwards. Encouraged, Steve stroked him until his hand was batted away.

He looked down – when had his eyes shut? – and there must have been something uncertain in his expression, because Phil smiled, shaking his head, and grabbed Steve's hand. He licked the palm slowly, never breaking eye contact, and then wrapped it back around his hard-on. Steve relaxed; it made the journey easier. But when Phil reached for him, he nudged his hand away.

Shaking a little, Steve offered two fingers to Phil. The agent sucked them down deeply, doing some very interesting (and damn arousing) things with his tongue, things Steve had imagined only in his darkest dreams about Agent Coulson. But that was Agent Coulson; this was Phil. Phil, who looked only the tiniest bit nervous as Steve pulled his fingers out.

Phil, whose eyes darkened when Steve moved his hand over his back, between his legs, and began to work them in. He whimpered at the unfamiliar sensation, but shook his head frantically at Phil's attempt to stop him.

"Please?" Steve whispered. It was the first word either of them had spoken, but it didn't sound at all jarring. Phil nodded, and slicked himself up as Steve continued to prepare himself. He wasn't taking the reins with his first time.

The moment it seemed right, when Steve felt confident that he was stretched enough, he straddled Phil shyly. The agent smiled beautifully up at him, and helped Steve lower himself, bit by bit, until he was seated. The smile faded, and Phil seemed worried. Before he could ask what was wrong, Steve leaned over and kissed him. He clenched around Phil as the movement forced him to shift inside.

They needed no words. All was said with looks and touches. Steve pleaded for more silently. Phil rolled them over so that he was on top. His thrusts went deeper, and Steve whimpered and moaned and grasped for breath. There were kisses. Lots of them. Soon, everything passed in a haze as they rocked together, caressing each other's skin, continually coming back to the kisses.

An age later, they climaxed within a second of each other. After they separated, Steve clumsily cleaned Phil's stomach and chest with tissues from the bedside table. He wanted to leave them on the floor so they could stay cuddled together, but Phil insisted on throwing the tissues into the bin, and getting back into underpants at the least.

"In case we need to make a speedy exit," he said. Steve just nodded, suddenly too tired to debate the point.

They were both nearly falling asleep again as they snuggled together, Steve on his back, Phil supporting his neck with one arm, his other arm slung over Steve's chest.

"Love you," Steve mumbled. "Been wanting to say that for," he yawned, "a long time."

"Love you, too, Steve," Phil said, half-smiling up at him. "Have since you came to see me in the hospital."

Remembering that horrible time, Steve shivered. He tightened his arms around the agent, and pulled him closer.

* * *

It was nearly nine by the time Phil woke, and glanced blearily at his phone. Judging by the light pouring through the windows it probably was that late. Wanting to stay where he was, he cuddled back to his pillow…

His Steve Rogers-shaped pillow, which was most definitely breathing, and warm, and firmly-muscled.

Oh God. He'd attached himself to the innocent captain during the night. He hoped that dream hadn't caused him any… embarrassment.

Extracting himself with the ease of a senior SHIELD agent, Phil sat on the edge of the bed, and fought his blush as he heard Steve waking behind him. He noticed that the small bin was nearly full of tissues, and tried to recall if that'd been the case last night.

"Uh… hi."

Phil cleared his throat. "Good morning, Captain Rogers."

"Oh. Uh, A-agent Coulson? I wanted to talk about what happened last night."

Phil groaned, and buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry. That explains the tissues, and I'm only sorry there was anything to, uh, clean up. You shouldn't have had to deal with that. Please forgive me."

"Forgive you? What do you… There's nothing to forgive, Phil."

He turned his upper body and stared at Steve. "Nothing to forgive?"

Steve gave him a small smile. "I hope not. I just wanted to know where we go from here."

"Go from here?"

"Phil, you're parroting me, and it's kind of disconcerting."

"S-sorry." He glanced away, and noticed something white on the ground several feet from the bed. It looked like his undershirt. The undershirt he was pretty sure he'd left on during the night, which was no longer on him, and was instead at the other side of the room.

"What's the problem?" Steve sat up, and followed his gaze. "Sorry about that. I was kind of eager to get it off you, and I didn't think… You don't mind it getting wrinkled, do you? I mean, no one else will see it… I hope. You did say you l-loved me, last night." He huffed a laugh, watching Phil. Then the smile disappeared. "You do remember, don't you? Phil? You remember, right? It was…" He frowned. "It was my first time. Please say you haven't forgotten. I… I said that I loved you… you said you loved me. We kissed, more than I've ever kissed anyone… a-and you don't remember. Do you? No." He shook his head. "You don't. I see that now. I just…"

When it looked like Steve was about to cry, Phil overcame his shock, and grasped his hand.

"I remember," he said. "I'm pretty sure I do. I didn't think it was real."

Steve studied him. "You thought you were dreaming."

"…Yeah."

"Oh." The smile returned. "Did you mean it, at the time? And now? Do you love me?"

Phil shifted closer to him, shoving the covers out of the way so that he could curl back around his captain for a few more minutes. "Yes. I did and I do."

Steve squirmed, pink-cheeked and grinning ridiculously. Then a sly look came over his face. Phil wondered, for a crazy moment, whether he'd been duped.

And then Steve tackled him.

"Let's make this one a bit more memorable," he said. Then he paused, looking uncertain. "If… if that's okay with you."

"Perfectly okay," Phil managed to say. Steve beamed, and began to strip them again.

"This time, I'd like to be inside you?" he said. Phil bit his lip.

"Let's shower first," he said. "Better yet, I'll arrange pick-up. I think we'll be more comfortable back at HQ."

"But we'll have to debrief first," Steve said, conveniently not mentioning the fact that he was already debriefing Phil, albeit in an entirely different fashion.

Caving under the power of the Steve Rogers pout, Phil agreed to postpone the call to SHIELD for half an hour. Or maybe an hour. Two, to be on the safe side.

He'd have fun limping around barracks tomorrow.

* * *

**Another story I've written late at night, and had to proofread at a later time.**

**Kink Meme prompt! Capsicoul shall ever have my heart. *Grins***

**I need to catch up on writing a bit more fan fiction while I can, partly to distract myself from the fact that my Aunty Von's in hospital at the moment, in intensive care. At this point, it could go either way. So I need to distract myself, and get stuff written before I lose interest in whatever the idea/prompt is. I shouldn't like to disappoint or abandon my readers. `Twould make me sad.**


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